From Seattle to New York
by coffee89
Summary: Sequel to From New York to Seattle. About Meredith's pregnancy and stuff. I suck at summaries...just read and review!
1. Missing New York

**AN: Yes, I started the sequel and yes, it's in Derek's POV…so don't get confused. Oh, and I don't own Grey's. **

Meredith was pregnant. Really, undoubtedly, fantastically pregnant. She had her first ultrasound today, two weeks after we found out, and she collapsed on the bed in the trailer from either exhaustion or disbelief, I'm not sure which. I'm actually getting worried, she hasn't opened her eyes for half an hour, and she's only managed to groan in response to all my questions.

Since the cancer she's been amazing, first agreeing to move into the trailer and then this- a kid. A real, live kid. A kid who, in nine months, will be waiting for me to screw up. A kid who I'm not completely sure will like me.

Despite my nervousness, I'm planning on proposing soon, but I don't want it to seem like I want to marry her because she's pregnant. I want to marry her because she's Meredith Grey; beautiful, strong, independent Meredith who I had a one-night-stand with four years ago that changed my life.

"Ugh," she mumbles into the pillow, rolling onto her back and finally prying open her eyes.

"Hey."

"I had the weirdest dream," she says, her voice scratchy from sleep, "I was pregnant and living in a trail-oh. Not a dream."

"Not a dream."

"I'm sorry, Derek, it's just…"

"Its fine," I assure her stiffly, although the thought of her thinking everything was a dream was…disappointing. I would've thought that she'd accepted this by now. Accepted us.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing it's just…"

"What?"

"Imissnewyork."

"What?"

She props herself up on her elbows, staring me down with her emerald green eyes.

"I miss New York."

The words don't sink in right away, they linger, testing me. Before I can think words fly out of my mouth, too.

"Great. You want New York, too."

She cringes, like I've slapped her, and my face softens. I crawl up beside her, laying a hand on her arm.

"You don't get to compare me and Addison," she says calmly, not breaking her stare, "and I didn't mean to live, I meant to visit. I miss Times Square."

I breathe a small sigh of relief, letting a smile push its way onto my lips.

"Sorry. And I miss it, too."

I can feel her relax into my arms, my chin resting on her hair.

"We should go. Sometime soon, so I can still fit into an airplane seat."

"How would we manage the time off? You're going to be on maternity leave later this year and I'm the head of neuro."

"Mark's chief. And he owes me."

"For what?"

"For," she pauses, lifting her eyes slowly to my face, "for…not telling Addison that he almost kissed me."

I tighten my grip on her arms, flipping her so that she's straddling me. She bites her lip, and I almost, almost, relax. That is until I picture Mark kissing her. Mark kissing Meredith.

"Explain," I say, my voice cutting the air.

"He was sad, I was sad….I stopped it. It didn't actually _happen_."

"Might as well have!" I yell, startling both of us, "Wait…was this before or after I found you two in bed together?"

"Before," she says, leaning in closer, "Can I make it up to you?"

"This is Mark," I argue, ignoring her flirting, "This is Mark, the ex best friend who slept with my wife and you almost kissed him."

"No," she says, "this is Mark, the ex best friend who slept with your wife and almost kissed _me_."

"Whatever."

"No, not whatever. There's a big difference."

My eyes move lower, watching her lips.

"Really?"

She kisses me, much too quickly; leaving me wanting more. Her hands snake up my abdomen, circling around my neck. She dips her head down again, grazing my lips.

"Really."

As she pulls my shirt over my thoughts scatter.

Mark was trying to kiss who?

**AN: Read and review!!!**


	2. Mark

The on-call room gently comes into focus as someone nudges me awake.

"I talked to Mark," she says, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she echoes, biting her lip like she always does when she doesn't want to tell me something, "He said I could go."

"That's great! How many days do we have?"

"That's the thing…he said _I _could go."

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. Her face becomes clearer, I can make out the frown lines on her forehead.

"What do you mean?"

"He said you were the head of neuro. That he couldn't let the head of neuro have a few days off because he doesn't have anybody to cover you while you're gone."

"But you're an _intern_," I protest, "the hospital's supposed to own you. I'm an attending, which means I'm supposed to own the hospital."

She crawls into my lap, cupping my chin. Her short, layered hair doesn't even reach her shoulders.

"I'm really sorry, Derek. It's just…I have to go. I have to see my kids-"she breaks off noticing my expression and laughing lightly, "Not _my _kids, the kids I taught at the high school."

"How long?"

"Just a week. A very short, abrupt week. You won't even notice I'm gone."

"You're going alone?"

She bites her lip again, looking up for a second before meeting my eyes. I sit up straighter, tensing. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know.

"That's the thing…he doesn't have a replacement for you because…because he needs someone to run the hospital while he's gone."

"While he's gone," I repeat, struggling to put two and two together and wondering why she had to wake me up to tell me this. I'd much rather deal with this back at the trailer, instead of at the hospital. The hospital where there's only a floor separating Mark and I.

"Yeah. See, he left behind a lot of people in New York…when he moved to Seattle. So, he wants to go back to visit."

"What about Addison?"

"She's going to stay here. She has a case that she needs to monitor over the next few days."

I silently unfold myself from the bed, giving her a glare before moving to the door and throwing it open. I let it slam behind me, leaving her to scramble after me.

"Derek-"she starts from somewhere behind me.

"Stop. You want to go to New York with Mark, _Mark_ of all people while Addison and I stay here, waiting for you two to come back and tell us that you two made a mistake and slept together. You don't get to say 'Derek' right now."

"But-"

"You don't get to say 'but' either. You don't get to say anything to me right now. Right now I'm working."

"You did the same to us," she mutters under her breathe, so low that I almost don't hear. I keep walking, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the hallway while the nurses point and shake their heads.

Her words follow me, though. They haunt me in the hallways, making me wonder how I could make her feel worse than what she's making me feel right now. Making me wonder how I could make her feel like that and have her still give me a chance.

A half-hour later, after I discover that I'm too distracted to work, and I stumble into another, empty on call room, this time locking the door.

--

"So you're really going. Regardless of what I say."

She's just stepped out of her car, joining me on the steps where I'm nursing my third beer.

"I'm really going. Regardless of what you say."

"Because I slept with Addison."

She rolls her eyes, "You really think this is about getting back at you? This is about me going to New York. This is about me missing my coworkers and the kids I used to teach."

I sigh, bringing the bottle up to my lips again. I'm sure that my eyes have started to glaze over from the alcohol.

"I guess I can't stop you."

"It'll help if you can accept this," she says hesitantly, laying a hand on my knee and gently prying the bottle from between my fingers.

"I can't accept this. There's too much…baggage between Mark and I…"

"I won't be falling into bed with him anytime soon," she assures, "I'm pregnant. We're having a baby."

My face stays blank, "Which is part of the reason I can't understand why you can't just be happy."

"I _am _happy."

"No, you're not. You're running to New York because you're missing something here with me."

"I'm not missing anything. I'm just…"She trails off, looking thoughtful for a moment, like she's just figured out what to say, "I made ties. You make ties when you're in one place for two years, just like I've made ties here with you; and if you can't respect me trying to keep those ties strong, then how can you respect me trying to keep my ties in Seattle strong?"

I don't answer her, although I know I probably should. Instead, I get up, feeling my knees creak under the effort. I go into the trailer; leaving her alone again.

**AN: I know, I know. That was mean. Review!!!**


	3. Yes

The next few days slip by slowly; me avoiding Meredith and Meredith avoiding me. She gave up trying to talk to me shortly after I sent her back to her old house to sleep, which was probably a smart move on her part. I can be an ass when it comes to Mark, especially when he's already made it clear that he's attracted to Meredith.

I know that we're acting terribly mature right now, with me steering clear of the elevator and her constantly surrounded by Izzie and George. Still, it's impossible for us to stop being childish. Whenever we get into a fight, this is how we act. We don't talk, we don't have angry sex (well, excluding certain situations); we ignore each other until one of us caves. We're Meredith and Derek; two people who have a twisted relationship consisting mainly of who can hurt who the most.

I make a mental note to change that once we make up.

"Dr. Shepherd," she greets coolly, four days after our fight, "George assigned me to your case."

"Right," I say, running a hand through my hair, "Take the patient down to CT and then get back to me with the results."

"It's three days away," she mutters, barely loud enough for me to hear.

"What Dr. Grey?" I ask. If she's going to use Dr. Shepherd, I'm going to use Dr. Grey.

"New York is three days away and we still haven't really talked about it."

"I think I made it pretty clear what I thought," I say, my voice biting the air. Her face falls and I change my tone into something softer, something less scorned-lover-ish, "I wish you'd just wait until he gives me the time off, too."

"Who knows when that will be?" She says, "I'm pregnant! Meaning, we won't be able to leave next year. This is pretty much my last chance."

"I just need one more day," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose, "I need one more day to accept this."

She nods, "I'll take this guy to CT. See you at home?"

Her voice sounds so small and hopeful that I immediately feel bad for kicking her out. She doesn't deserve to be sent back to the house that probably reminds her of her mother. She doesn't deserve to be questioned because she wants to visit New York. Besides, it's miserable to live in a trailer without someone to come home to.

"I'll see you at home."

She starts to walk off, but right before I turn away she gives me a small smile over her shoulder. I grin back, shaking my head and heading off to the OR.

Sometimes, she gives me a cross between a smirk and a smile that makes me forget why we were fighting in the first place. That smile is the only thing that can make me cave in a fight, and that smile is the only thing that makes me forget how to breathe.

--

"You know, things were a lot easier when I had cancer," she says while we collapse into the bed at the trailer after my forty-eight hour shift and her twenty-four hour shift. O'Malley's started taking my advice and making her take shorter shifts.

"How so?"

"I could always use that card. You know, the whole 'I'm sick so let me go to New York with Mark' card."

I chuckle, pulling her closer.

My face turns serious while my fingers are threading through her hair, "That card isn't available anymore."

She nods, rolling me onto my back and hovering over me, "So, this Mark thing."

I groan, "Can we make it a rule not to talk about Mark in bed?"

She laughs, one of her light, giggling laughs that makes everything better.

"Fine, then I'll make dinner and we can talk about it in the kitchen."

"Please don't," I plead, "the memory of that last burnt dinner in this trailer still makes me want to run for the nearest exit. What if you start another fire?"

She glares playfully at me, holding up a cell phone.

"Pizza okay?"

"As long as you don't eat it tomorrow morning," I call, laughing while she mockingly swats my words away.

I come up behind her while she's on the phone, shifting her hair to the side and dipping my head down to kiss her neck. She shivers, stammering an order into the phone and pushing me roughly away.

"You can go," I mutter, and she whirls around to wrap me in a quick hug, dropping the phone.

"Are you sure?"

"Just this once, and it's only a week, right?"

"Right."

"In that case, I hope you told them the address…"

"Already hung up," she says, dangerously close.

"Good," I say, kissing her. She laughs against my lips and backs me up against the microwave.

"Think we can get done before the pizza guy gets here?"

"We might have to call again."

**AN: Review, as usual…**


	4. Missing Meredith

**AN: so I know that Derek's POV is cool and all, but it's getting _so_ hard to write, not even joking. Probably because I'd rather be Meredith looking at McDreamy than McDreamy looking at Meredith…so I might change the POV after this chapter…I don't know. Plus, I need to be Meredith so that we know what happens in New York!! So that might change. But, for now, it's McDreamy all the way. **

She left an hour ago.

We met up with Mark at the airport so they could catch the red-eye, me standing awkwardly next to them as they got into the line for boarding passes and security checks. I pulled her aside right before they called her forward to take off her shoes and slide her carry-on through, and we started a not-so-appropriate make-out session, only breaking apart when the guard cleared his throat roughly. I glanced quickly at Mark, disappointed by his unfazed expression. But, really, what was I expecting? He has Addison, and he knew that he and Meredith were never going to happen. Meredith noticed the look and squeezed my hand gently, brushing my cheek with her lips and whispering a quick 'I'll miss you,' into my ear.

Now I'm behind the wheel, feeling the ghost of her lips on my face and flicking on my turn signal to nudge into the line of cars stretching indefinitely in front of me. It doesn't make sense, this much traffic this late at night, and I'm feeling unbelievably tired. All I want to do is fall back into our bed at the trailer and sleep for at least forty-eight hours; sleep through my next shift at the hospital.

The lights blink red in front of me, a long trail of exhausted drivers going home to pets, kids, wives. And then there's me, heading towards an empty trailer resting on acres of land, lonely and bitter although I know I don't really have a reason to be. Meredith's only gone for a week, not three years, and when she comes back she won't have cancer, she'll jump into my arms with her boy hair-cut and ignore Mark the second that she sees me through the metal detectors. She loves me, and it's unsettling that I have to remind myself of that.

I pull up the path, feeling the crunch of gravel underneath the tires. It's started to pour in the last few minutes and I have to run to the makeshift porch hanging off the trailer to keep from getting soaked. The air's hot and muggy; heavy and damp. The rain falls gently, latching onto my sweater and jeans. Water drops entangle with my hair and slip down my face, and I hesitate for a second, standing there in the rain and looking out across my pitch-black property.

I throw the fridge open once I'm inside and grab a beer, snapping off the top and taking a long, much needed gulp. I close my eyes, letting the liquid move easily down my throat, pulling my soaked shirt over my head. I carry the beer bottle back to the bed, half expecting Meredith to yell at me from the kitchen, telling me not to spill alcohol on the sheets. This is the first time we've been apart since she came back, I realize with an ironic smile. Maybe that's why I'm so sickeningly homesick for her hair, her eyes, her laugh. It's been two and a half hours, two and a half hours that feel like three years.

--

"So, she really went?" Stevens asks me the next night, while we're both staring at the board in the hospital and willing our names to appear.

"Yep," I say, with perhaps more enthusiasm than is necessary, "She'll be back in a week, though."

"Uh, huh."

She gives me a sidelong glance, sizing up just how much this is bothering me. I keep staring at the board but I'm vaguely aware of Izzie turning to face me head-on and propping her right hand authoritatively on her hip.

"You don't trust them," she says, as if she's just realized. As if it hasn't been obvious since day one.

"No, I don't."

"You know, some say a relationship is based on trust."

"Yeah, well, they haven't met Mark Sloane."

"Or Meredith," she prompts, following me as I begin to walk towards the elevator. Somehow, talking about the fact that Meredith and Mark used to have sort-of a thing isn't high on my list of priorities.

"No, Meredith's trustworthy. Mark? Not so much."

"So you're having doubts about Meredith's ability to say no to Mark?"

I sigh, turning towards her for the first time and giving her my best 'I don't care' face.

"Look, Stevens-"

"Izzie."

"Okay, Izzie. I'm fine with this trip. If I wasn't, I wouldn't have let her go. I trust her, I trust him, I'm fine with it, and I don't need to see a therapist. We good?"

"Yeah," she says softly, giving me a critical stare, "yeah, we're good."

She backs away, letting me step through the sliding silver doors and watch the floors fall away. I know she's right. I realize that I'm blaming Meredith for something that hasn't even happened yet. I understand that I have trust issues, that we _both_ have trust issues. And hell, the fact that we've made it this far should be a sign, right? I mean, if we can get through a secret marriage, a dead mother, and a near-fatal disease then we can get through anything. This will pass, like everything else, and when she's back we'll remember how to be Derek and Meredith again.

**Review, as usual!!!! (Lovin' the reviews so far, by the way)**


	5. New York City

**Meredith's POV**

I have no doubts about what this trip is doing to Derek. I have no doubts that he's wondering if I'll stay with him, if I'll leave him for Mark. It shouldn't be like this, we should be able to trust each other. I wish he could trust me, and I wish I could push away the image of him tipping back a beer alone in the trailer, but every time I close my eyes it's there, haunting me. Halfway to New York Mark's head nudged into my shoulder and I couldn't help hoping for a second that it was Derek asleep in the window seat, his mouth open at an odd angle.

_An older woman across the aisle nods appreciatively and gives me a not-so-subtle thumbs up. _

"_Nice catch," she says, smiling._

"_Oh, I'm not-we're not…I have a boyfriend!" I stammer. _

_She nods again, pointing to Mark. _

"_I'm just-taking a trip with him…my boyfriend's in Seattle…"_

_I slouch lower into the seat as her friendly demeanor disappears, replaced with cold eyes and a prominent frown. It happens so fast that I wonder if I had been imagining the conversation all along. She shakes her head, turning back to her magazine and I can't help thinking that one more person has pegged me as the dirty mistress. _

The memory flashes uncomfortably through my mind as we step into the elevator of our hotel, each holding on to our separate keys. That woman's disapproval was so obvious, it made me want to get on the next plane back to Seattle and forget about this trip, about Mark. But, then again this is New York City and being back here is so amazing that I don't think I could get on that plane right now. I have to do things, see things, listen to things. This is New York City, and I'm back.

"So, what are we doing first?" Mark asks, leaning against the back wall of the elevator.

"Sleeping."

"And after? Want to catch some dinner…order in?"

"Sure," I say, struggling to stifle the voice in my head that's telling me to say no. We reach the sixth floor, where both of our rooms are. "What room are you?"

"564. You?"

I groan inwardly.

"563."

We walk side by side down the hall, mentally counting the numbers until we reach the 560's. We each slide our key cards into the locks and open our doors simultaneously, and I dump my bags in the hallway, too tired to move them further into the room.

"Does this mean I can visit you at three in the morning and complain to you about my nightmares?" Mark says, scaring me half to death as he comes through the door next to the T.V. He has this self-satisfied smirk spread across his lips and his eyes are lit in child-like excitement.

It figures that they'd give us adjoining rooms. Clearly the desk, like the woman on the plane, didn't pick up on the fact that he's not my boyfriend.

"No," I snap, growing tired of the fact that Mark isn't Derek.

"Guess we're not having sex tonight."

"If you think that's what this is about-"my voice has a cold edge, my hands curled into fists. Maybe this trip was another one of my infamous mistakes.

"Relax, I was just kidding. Whoa, you have a fridge? How come I didn't get a fridge?"

I roll my eyes, digging through my purse to find the cell phone that's vibrating against my wallet.

"Hey," I say gratefully into the receiver once I've pulled it out and read the display.

"_Hey. How was your flight?"_

His voice is faint, barely reaching my ears.

"It was long," I say, "We just got to our rooms."

"_Rooms as in plural?"_ he asks hopefully.

"Yeah."

"They're adjoined, so we can hang whenever," Mark adds, loud enough for Derek to hear.

"I'll lock the door," I assure Derek before he can protest.

"_Promise?"_

"Promise."

I move to the bed, listening to Derek's even breathing on the other end. Mark retreats back to his own room, probably sensing that I really don't want him here.

"Mark's gone," I say, and the tension that's traveling through the phone lines breaks, splitting into pieces and making us Meredith and Derek again instead of two awkward people with nothing to say to each other. There's a sigh in my ear, a low, sad sigh that's so uniquely Derek that it makes me bite my lip and struggle to control my shaking hands.

It's been twenty hours and I miss him.

"_Should I worry?"_

"No," I answer automatically, although I'm not so sure anymore. Maybe I should have listened to Derek when I had the chance, maybe I should have forgotten about this insane need to be in New York City again, to see my kids. But then I think about them, the kids, with their stupid pranks and the occasional smile that creeps onto their faces when they finally get the answer. I think about them and I realize that I _do_have to do this, I have to see them before I can move on in Seattle. I miss Derek, but I miss them too. "Mark has Addison and I have you."

I can feel him nod, a quick jerk of his head to convince himself that I'm not lying.

"_Yeah," he says, "yeah, I guess. Listen, I'll let you go now but can you give me a call tomorrow? I miss you."_

"I'll call you. I miss you, too."

"_Okay. Go to sleep, you sound like hell."_

I let out a relieved laugh, because Derek sounds less sad and depressed, he sounds more like Derek.

"You too."

"_Yeah, well, this is me after a thirty-eight hour shift at the hospital."_

I laugh again, because everything seems so much better now that his voice is in my ear. When the line goes dead I relax back onto the pillow and close my eyes, forgetting about the man in room 564 and feeling the tension gradually start to fade.

**AN: So I figure I'll do Meredith POV for New York and just switch back and forth between Derek and Meredith. I might even do a Mark in the next few chapters (maybe the next one) I don't know. Let me know what you think!!! Reviews always appreciated!**


	6. Understanding Mark

**AN: Sorry this took so long, Fanfic wouldn't let me upload...  
so this chapter is basically about understanding Mark. Because most reviews have been like 'oh no, mark!' and I think it's kind of necessary to understand where he's coming from….so, on that note, enjoy!!**

**Mark POV**

I'm playing a dangerous game, taking this trip with Meredith. My friendship with Derek is already teetering between shaky and non-existent and I really can't afford to take any more chances, especially chances involving the initials MG. If I was really, really honest with myself I'd admit that things are teetering between shaky and non-existent with Addison too, but I'd only admit that if I was really, really honest with myself. As for Meredith, well, let's just say she probably won't be making out with me anytime soon. She's afraid of me, afraid that I'll somehow ruin her relationship with Derek and therefore ruin _my _relationship with Addison. What she doesn't know is that I'm in love with Addison, that I would never make a move on Meredith Grey after what happened five years ago. I would never compromise everything I've built up just for a piece of ass. I would never even think about going after Meredith Grey because, well, where would that leave me?

What people don't understand is that I'm not the man whore everyone thinks I am. Sure, five years ago I'd flirt with the nurses and have one-night-stands every other night but I've changed, for the better I hope, and I think that what Meredith's really afraid of is that _she'll _cave, that _she'll _be the one to ruin her relationship with Derek. I see the fear; I see how scared she is that she'll loose her self control. I know that if she slips, even for a second, a moment, a kiss, she'll never be able to forgive herself. I know because I've never been able to forgive _my_self.

I can't help teasing her a little, though, watching her squirm under my mock flirting; my sexual innuendo. She's beautiful, and can I see why Derek wants her, but I'm in love with Addison and I'm not about to screw up the thin thread of a truce that I have going with Derek. He loves her, and I'm not going to rip that away from him. I'm not going to rip that away because I know it would hurt him just as much as him sleeping with Addison did to me.

I can see in her eyes that she's begging me to leave while she's talking to Derek on the phone, I can see that she hates me for staying and making her doubt her relationship.

I take her subtle clues, backing out through the connecting door and retreating back to my room, fully ready to fall into bed and never get up.

Everyone blames me because they don't know how to blame themselves.

--

Twelve hours later I wake up to a pitch-black room and a soft noise traveling through the wall. The noise crawls into my mind, interrupting my sleep and refusing to let me fall back into it, nesting in my eardrums until I can't stay still any longer. The covers are in a tangled mess at the end of the bed and a soft glow from the lamp resting on the bedside table fills the room. I close and open my eyes, yawn and stretch, groan and push myself up off the bed. The blinds are closed, refusing to let in light from outside. I'm trying to pretend like I'm still on Seattle time, that it really _is _seven in the morning.

It's probably not the best idea to push through the door to see if Meredith's up yet, I realize with one palm pressed onto the wood, but everyone at Seattle Grace knows that I don't have the best judgment when it comes to women, and I have a sneaking suspicion that the woman in that room is making the soft humming noise that woke me up. Besides, I can't stay in my room all day counting the dots in the ceiling.

I knock lightly on the door and step through before she gives me permission to come in.

"Hey," she greets, clearly not entirely thrilled to see me, "How'd you sleep?"

She's sticking her head out the bathroom, flipping the switch on her hairdryer and running a slender hand through the damps strands of her short, cropped hair.

"Good actually, considering the time difference."

"Me, too," she says, giving me a small smile and ducking back into the bathroom. After she disappears her voice continues to carry over to me through the crack under the door, "I was thinking I'd visit the school today. Want to come along? Or do you have friends to see?"

"I'm getting together with Savvy and Weiss later tonight for drinks but before then…"

"Are Savvy and Weiss…?"

"Yeah. You can come along if you want, but I'm not too sure they'd treat you like just another friend after the whole divorce thing."

"Right," she calls after an eerie, awkward silence. The door creaks open and she comes padding into the room; clutching one hand to the top of her terry cloth bathrobe and going straight to her suitcase. She bends down carefully, making sure I don't get an unexpected view while she's pulling out a top and jeans. "I'm going to stop by a coffee shop on the way to pick up a Danish or something and I'm going to leave pretty soon so if you want to go…"

"Yeah, I'll go. But are you sure it won't be, I don't know…awkward?"

"Of course it'll be awkward. We're the dirty mistresses and you tried to make out with me when you found out Derek was still sleeping with Addison. What _won't _be awkward about this trip?"

"Good point. Give me five minutes?"

"Meet you downstairs."

I leave her, giving one last glance to the tiny blonde locking the top of her bathrobe together with tiny hands so that I won't see her collarbone or anything resembling the top of her breast. I almost laugh at her expression, the glare of warning that burns a hole in my eyes. She doesn't trust me, and I guess she doesn't really have a reason to. She doesn't trust herself, and I guess that's understandable considering her history. And, finally, she doesn't trust New York City, because she knows that she was a different person when she lived here last and she doesn't know if that person will resurface just because she's here again. It's sad, really, the amount of doubt this woman carries around with her every day. It makes me wonder how she's still standing. It makes me wonder how she can perform simple brain functions with all the over-analyzing she's been doing lately.

I meet her downstairs after the promised five minutes, and we each pocket our keys before tumbling through the revolving glass doors to hail a cab.

**Meredith's POV**

Mark sucks.

That's all I have to say. He sucks because he's obviously trying to intimidate me into sexual favors. I see the looks he's been shooting in my general direction. I see the amused smirks that he thinks I don't notice. I see all sorts of things that make me uncomfortable and confused and make me want to run back to Derek and never see Mark Sloane again. He holds open the cab door for me (Mark, not Derek), and I slide hesitatingly in, slipping over the leather seat easily to make room for him. I give the cab driver the directions for the school and lay back, closing my eyes. This trip is already a nightmare and it's only the first day.

"Still tired?" he says, "I thought you slept okay."

"I did, but I've never really been good at the whole time-change thing. It takes me a while to adjust."

The excuse seems lame even to my own ears but he lets it drop.

"Uh huh. So, this…school. What did you teach?"

"English. I would have taught science but they only had one opening."

"I can't picture you as an English teacher."

I laugh, "That's probably one of the reasons why I came back to Seattle."

"But you missed them, your kids. You missed them enough to come with to New York with me despite Derek's objections."

"Yes."

My answer's clipped and almost cold, and I feel his stare on the back of my neck as I climb out of the cab. He puts it so cruelly, like I'm only doing this to hurt Derek, which I'm not. I'm doing this for me, not anyone else, and it's unnerving to hear Mark of all people question my decision.

I let him pay.

**AN: So Meredith's not exactly the best person right now. But that's only because I want people to see how it's not _all_ Mark's fault. **

_**REVIEW!!**_


	7. Shrinking Trailer

_**Derek's POV**_

I think the trailer's shrinking. The walls are closing in and it's becoming an effort just to make it to the kitchen every morning. The hallway was barely there to begin with, but now it's damn near impossible to squeeze through; I have to take a deep breath of air and suck it in just to make it to work. It's cold, too. Logically it should be getting warmer, I mean, it's already June; isn't that month normally associated with warmth? But no, the trailer is getting colder and colder and colder, so cold that I have to wear three layers when I crawl under the covers after my shift, so cold that my teeth chatter in a jittery, constant pattern.

I stay at the hospital for hours just to be somewhere that lets me walk, move, breathe. It takes me until the first nightfall after she's left when I crawl into bed alone to realize that the trailer is shrinking because I miss her. I shouldn't be this pathetic, I mean, one day and my teeth are already chattering? One day and the trailer's shrinking? That isn't normal, it's scary. I'm turning into someone dark and twisty, someone that I'd never thought I'd be. But that's not the worst. The worst, the most horrible thing about this whole thing is that I'm not remembering the good things about us, I'm remembering the days when I'd drive her to chemo and when I'd wake up to the sounds of her throwing up in the bathroom. I'm remembering her pale and exhausted, hair gone and gasping for air.

Like I said, this isn't what's supposed to happen after one night away from each other, especially when it's not our first. This can't happen, I need to see someone, maybe a therapist. But, the problem is, I've never really _liked _therapists. Maybe a friend, a coworker? Addison's out of the question but Burke could work. He'd understand, with Christina finally back at work and back to loving surgery. He'd understand how to deal with this humiliating, inexplicable loneliness that's been clawing at the walls of the trailer ever since I got back from the airport. He'd know what to do.

I grab the keys to Meredith's Cherokee, relieved to have a goal, a mission, a task. A task that could potentially allow me to sleep alone at the trailer tonight without feeling like I'll either suffocate or die of hypothermia. I flick idly through radio stations once I'm behind the wheel, relaxing as The Clash starts to blare through the speakers. I sing along, softly at first, but by the time I'm pulling into the Burke's driveway I've reached full lung capacity. I'm off-tune and I'm pretty sure the neighbors can hear but it feels good to let go for once, to remember what it's like to have fun. After so much angst, it's reassuring.

"Derek," Burke stammers, clad only in boxers when he throws open the door, "I thought you'd be the take-out."

Maybe I should have called.

"You greet take-out guys in boxers?" I say, one eyebrow raised, "Don't tell me how you deal with solicitors."

"Funny. Hey, come on in. We were just about to eat."

"Is Christina clothed?" I ask skeptically.

"Good point," he mumbles before turning to call up the stairs, "Christina? You might want to get dressed. Shepherd's here."

"Why the hell did you let Shepherd in?" She calls back, followed by a series of not- so-quiet bangs. "_Shit!"_

"You alright?" Burke says, starting to climb the stairs. I step into the house, closing the door behind me and beginning my usual sweep of the photographs on the mantle. There's a picture of the interns that's my favorite, a picture I always migrate to first, a picture taken before Meredith left the first time. They're all leaning over the hood of Meredith's car with the Seattle Grace sign in the background that's glowing with the last glimpse of light before sunset. They're all laughing, captured right in the middle with earsplitting grins and twinkling eyes. I love how Meredith's hair is falling in her face, the bangs she used to have covering part of her eyes as her head dips forward with laughter.

"I remember that," Christina says quietly, running a finger over the bottom of the frame. Burke's standing in the doorway, watching us.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. That was about two months after you guys met. She was happy."

"She was."

Burke offers me the arm chair in the living room and he and Christina take the couch. He loops an arm around her shoulders, smiling at her for a second before turning to me.

"How are you?"

I'm painfully aware of Christina's presence, painfully aware that all this will eventually get back to Meredith.

"Can we maybe… talk alone?" I ask cautiously.

They exchanged a confused look before Christina rose to her feet and padded upstairs, making her footsteps audible to prove she wouldn't be eavesdropping.

"So what did you need to talk about?" Burke asks once the footsteps are gone.

"What else?" I ask bitterly, "you know its Meredith."

"What happened?"

"She left for New York," I say, and Burke frowns, opening his mouth to say something but shutting it once I begin to let out a string of words, "She left for New York and now I sit in the trailer with nothing to do and it keeps getting smaller and smaller, which it shouldn't, right? I mean, I lived without her for three years, the trailer shouldn't be getting smaller after one day apart, right? That's not normal. It's not normal that I can't even close my eyes anymore because I see her with no hair, hooked up to all these machines…" I let my voice die out.

At this point I could probably beat some of Meredith's most impressive rants.

"Breathe, Derek," he says, and I'm reminded of when I said that to Meredith while she was hyperventilating in the supply closet a lifetime ago.

I breathe.

"I just…I just shouldn't be this broken up over her absence. If this is what happens after one night…"

He pauses to think, his frown still firmly in place while he leans to rest on the back of the couch.

"Do you have nightmares?"

"Sometimes," I say, flushing, "But I can never remember them."

"When did they start?"

I think back.

"Maybe….four months ago?"

Burke nods.

"I think I know what's wrong," he says, and the pause between 'I think I know what's wrong' and telling me what's wrong seems way too long. I feel a long-suppressed urge to bite my fingernails reappear. "I think you're having delayed shock about what happened to Meredith."

"What happened to Meredith…" I prompt, lost already.

"The cancer. I think you're remembering how she left for New York without cancer and came back with it. I think you're worried that the same thing will happen with this trip."

I scoff, "That's crazy! You think that I have some sort of superstition about New York _City_?"

"Subconsciously," Burke clarifies. There's an odd silence, a silence where Burke is obviously as uncomfortable as I am; no small accomplishment.

"But that's impossible. I know she's fine," I insist, "although I'd feel a hell of a lot better if she had a different tour guide."

"You probably can't recognize that it's happening. But you're scared, you're scared she'll come back and tell you she has cancer."

It makes sense, I realize, despite my initial reaction. Whenever I think about her, I think about her sick. I think about how she told me, how it felt like a kick in the stomach. I think about the chemo treatment dripping into the IV. Burke notices the silence this time and puts an awkward hand on my knee.

"Listen, Derek, she's going to be fine. This trip doesn't mean that there's going to be some sort of déjà vu, it means that she misses the place she used to live. You're going to have to accept it or you're not going to make it through the week."

He eyes my wrinkled clothes and not-so-perfect hair meaningfully. I follow his gaze, taking in my scuffed-up boots and my stained jeans that really, _really_ need to be washed.

I see his point.

--

The next few days are better. I force myself to think of the good things with Meredith, the times when we weren't so…confused. I take out the snow picture and find a frame, setting it by our bed. I remember the feel of her lips on mine, the day that we got our first sonogram, first heard about the baby. I'm smiling, smiling at the memories when my cell phone vibrates in my pocket, signaling her incoming call. I hold the phone up to my ear, eager to hear her voice. For some reason I know it's her without reading the display.

"Hey," I breathe.

"_Hey."_

Her voice sounds strange, like she's not calling from her cell. I hold the phone away from my ear.

_Unavailable_ –it says.

"Where are you?"

I can't keep the worry out of my voice. What if she's in an alley somewhere, hugging her knees to her chest and struggling to control her tears? What if something happened with Mark?

I can feel her biting her lip.

"_Looking back, you'll find this funny," _she promises.

"Find what funny, Meredith," I grit out.

"_Don't freak out."_

"I won't."

"_Promise?"_

I'm either ready to laugh or yell with disbelief at how long she's dragging this out.

"Promise."

I hear the phone line sag as she sucks in a deep, shaky breath.

"_Mark and I…Mark and I are kind of…"_

**AN: It had to be done. It just had to. I knew you guys were missing the cliff hangers, so, I put one in. Start guessing!!!!!**


	8. Surprise!

**Oh my god how did you guess? Seriously you guys are way to smart for this fic. **

"Spit it out," I growl impatiently. The fact that Mark is involved makes this a hundred times worse. She says something but her voice is too weak and I ask her to say it louder, so human's can hear.

"_Mark and I were arrested."_

My first impulse is to laugh. I know, crazy. But it's my first impulse. The second is to say 'What?' which I do. She stays silent. The third is to laugh again, so I do. The kind of neurotic, crazy, uncontrollable laughter that I'd always envied her for. I can't breathe, the laughter coils in my stomach, refusing to lighten up even when I can feel her pout through the phone. She's just told me she's been arrested and I'm laughing, not even bothering to ask my girlfriend exactly what she got arrested _for._ I'm laughing because it's so inconceivable, her being arrested. It's so hard to imagine the police reading her her rights.

"_This is my one phone call so could you stop laughing please? Or I may never have sex with you again."_

The grin slips off my face.

"Laughing stopping now."

"_Good. Because do you know what this could do to my job?"_

"Oh."

I hadn't thought about that. What if she's kicked out of the program? I panic for a second, worried for her, for us. Who would she be without surgery? A school teacher?

"_Yeah. Oh."_

I start laughing again. For some reason the laughter isn't letting up, it's coming in waves. I laugh because I realize something.

Mark.

"_Did I mention the celibacy?"_

"Meredith, you got arrested with the _chief of surgery_! I don't think you have anything to worry about."

There's a pause and I begin to worry that her time is up.

"_I didn't think of that."_

Her voice is small, quiet, and I can feel the distance between us. I smile.

"That's what I'm here for."

"_This is bad, Derek. The last time I was arrested was in college."_

"You were arrested in college?"

"_Focus, Derek, this is a crisis!"_

"You're cute when you freak out."

"_Were you not the grumpy boyfriend three days ago? If I had known it would take this to get you to lighten up-"_

Unexpectedly the line clicks dead, and although I know that her time is up, I call her name a couple of times just to make sure. Chuckling to myself I tear off the plastic of my microwave dinner and push open the screen door; breathing in the hot summer air. Our makeshift porch sags under my weight as I sink into the only chair, balancing my plastic tray on one arm and my beer on the other.

That's when it hits.

Meredith, in a cold, unforgiving jail cell, alone. Meredith, with bruises from the other inmates, scars. She's so tiny, what would happen to her in jail? I catch myself hoping they put Mark in the same cell as her, just so nothing will go wrong. The image shifts slightly in my mind, Meredith with no hair in a jail cell, an IV attached to the vein in the crook of her elbow. Meredith, cold sheens of sweat covering her face, her arms, her legs. Meredith in pain. The images flash one after the other and I try to think of the good times, try to drown out all the things that will quickly send me on the path to insomnia. It's only while I'm on the highway and turning off the exit for the airport that I realize that I've already set up a flight to New York; first class. If I don't, I know that the images won't go away this time. I have to see her, touch her, hold her, before I can let my eyes close. I have to stay alert and let the worry take over, otherwise it'll choke me.

I pull into the parking garage, finding a spot by the elevator and slipping out of the front seat, pressing my thumb to my set of keys and hearing the light click of all four locks.

The plane is cramped and stuffy. Even though the seat next to mine is empty and there's plenty of leg room, I still feel like I won't be able to make it all the way to New York. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket when the flight attendant turns her back, dialing the only person I can think to call.

"_I thought I'd be hearing from you," _she breathes in my ear, picking up after one ring, _"I assume you talked to Meredith?"_

"Yeah. I'm on a plane right now, actually."

"_Which flight? I'm on one, too."_

I dig my boarding pass out of my jacket pocket, frowning at the numbers.

"Number 1987. you?"

She starts laughing and I hear it carry over the seats as well as in my ear. I shift in my seat, trying to get a glimpse over the rows, alert for fiery red hair. I start laughing with her when she slides into the seat next to me, flipping her phone shut.

"I can't believe we had the same impulse," she greets.

"Well, we were married for twelve years; that probably has something to do with it."

"I guess."

"Hey, do you know where they are? Where they're being held?"

"Yeah. Mark got right to the point in his phone call, made me kind of nervous as to how many times he's had to do it."

"Thank god. I was worried I'd have to rely on intuition. Meredith took a long time getting around to telling me."

"That sounds like Meredith."

She maneuvers her seat backward, tilting her head to rest on the papery pillow and closing her eyes.

"Did he tell you what they were arrested for?"

"Nope. He just said 'I got arrested with Meredith, don't get mad. We're in the NYPD jail in downtown Manhattan' and hung up. It was like he expected me to fly out to New York."

"Which you did."

"Yeah."

"Sounds like Mark."

The pilot comes over the intercom, telling us to fasten our seatbelts and enjoy our flight. She burrows deeper into the chair, kicking off her heels and sighing.

"I hate flying," she mumbles.

"I remember."

I try to close my eyes, too, but I keep thinking of Meredith. I keep thinking that I have to see her. Even though my eyes are stinging with exhaustion and a headache is beginning to form, I can't bring myself to give in. It's only when we're flying over Michigan that I give in to sleep, and that's only because my eyes can't stay open any longer.

**AN: So you still don't know why they were arrested, and guess what? Neither do I! But I will, I promise, within the next few days. And it will be amazing. In the meantime, however, reviews are the bomb!!!**


	9. Jail

**AN: So I know absolutely nothing about police stations. I've only been in one once and that was totally not because I was arrested or anything and I don't really remember exactly what it looked like so this is completely made up. And I really have no idea what the description **_**should**_** be like so yeah. **

Addison and I stumbled through the airport doors exhausted, starving and overwhelmingly curious. It's amazing what a plane ride and a cryptic phone call can do to someone. The initial adrenaline has started to fade, leaving me more inquisitive than ever. Instead of just the casual, far-away knowledge that Meredith did something illegal, there's this pounding, unrelenting voice in the back of my head asking me what the hell she did. Addison looks just as nervous as I probably do, she's picking at her nails and her leg hasn't stopped tapping in a shaky rhythm since we ran into each other on the airplane. 

We hail a cab and give the driver the directions, both of us feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. This is like when we lived in the brownstone, Addison and I, hailing a cab in New York City.

"What do you think they did?" Addison asks, brows knit together and an unreadable expression on her face.

"No idea. Probably not something _too_ horrible. I mean, it's Meredith."

"It's Mark."

"Good point."

I let a sigh escape, shutting my eyes for a moment. The next thing I know Addison's shaking me awake and telling me that we're here. We're here, at the New York City Police Department. I rub the sleep out of my eyes, mentally slapping myself awake. I need to be awake, need to be awake for Meredith, my pregnant girlfriend who got arrested. The laughter threatens to escape again, and I fight back a smirk while we drag ourselves up the steps. We're both losing our momentum, and I'm beginning to question why I wanted to come here in the first place.

We go up to the desk and I find myself face to face with blue uniforms and flashing badges. I've never really been in a police station before, I don't know what to expect.

The officer nods when we tell him why we're here and rises to his feet to lead us to Meredith and Mark. He guides us down the hallway, his shoes clicking against the spotless tile floor. Earlier, right after Meredith's phone call, I had pictured her in a prison, with barbed wire surrounding the grounds and inmates with spider- web tattoos curling up their arms. It's funny, thinking of that image now. It's funny because this building is probably close to a complete opposite of a prison. It's two cells, one of them occupied by a sleeping man in hobo gloves and a ratty scarf, the other holding a sleeping Meredith and a bored-looking Mark propped up against the cement wall.

"Finally!" Mark says as soon as he sees us, "What the hell took you so long?"

Addison and I exchange a confused look, our jaws dropping simultaneously. Addison finds words before I do, her face turning scarlet and her eyes flashing dangerously at Mark.

"Finally? _Finally?_ We flew across the _country_ to bail you two out and you don't even say thank you? _You _were the one who wanted to come to New York. _You _were the one who just _expected _us to fly out here and then you have the nerve to say _finally_?"

Meredith's eyes flutter open from the cot and she yawns, stretching and rising to her feet in one fluid movement so easily that I wonder if she was ever really asleep in the first place. She notices us right away, shifting her eyes to meet mine, her expression apologetic. She mouths 'I'm sorry' to me and I nod, not willing to give her anything more. As far as I can tell, Addison's still yelling at Mark but my eyes are locked on Meredith as she gently shuffles closer to me, as she curls her long fingers around the bars.

"You came," she says simply, sounding mildly surprised.

"I came."

Addison turns to glare at me, like I'm fraternizing with the enemy or something. When I give her a neutral shrug she whirls back around to face Mark.

"What the hell did you do?" She demands, and Mark looks like he's actually grateful that there are bars separating them from us.

"We…um…" Meredith stammers, biting her lip, "It's a little embarrassing."

"We were playing truth or dare with friends-"

"Savvy and Wiess," Meredith adds.

"Oh, god," Addison moans, slumping.

"How are they?" I ask, my tone, laced with genuine curiosity, completely inappropriate for the situation. Addison throws me another glare.

"They're fine. So we're out with Savvy and Weiss playing truth or dare and they have this new 'seize the day' thing-"

"Carpe Diem," Meredith says.

"Whatever. So we're doing crazy stuff that's on the brink between legal and illegal-"

"The _brink_," Meredith emphasizes.

"Would you stop?" Mark growls under his breath, breaking his stare with Addison and glancing towards Meredith, "You're getting me confused."

Meredith playfully zips her mouth shut and sinks back onto the mattress-less bed.

"So we're playing this game and all of a sudden things get…a little out of hand."

"What do you mean 'out of hand'?" I ask, my voice skating on ice as I remember back to the last time I bailed Mark out of a not-so-good circumstance.

"We printed out fake parking tickets and put them on a whole bunch of cars, okay?" Meredith blurts, then adds in a voice almost too low to hear, "And I flashed someone."

"I _told _you to stop doing that!" Mark grumbles from the corner of the cell, "I like telling stupid stories."

"He's just hung over," Meredith stage-whispers to me, cupping her mouth with her hand; probably trying to chase away the fact that she was arrested for indecent exposure. "He was fine an hour ago."

I'm too stunned to react, although Addison's obviously not, she's cradling her stomach in one hand and letting out peals of laughter that bounce off the cold, cement walls, alerting the guard and cutting short our stay.

"Aren't you going to get us out of here?" Mark complains to our backs as the guard reminds us in a bored voice that visiting hours are over.

"We'll let you spend the night," I call back over my shoulder, "Think of it as character building."

I hear a dull thud as he falls back against the wall and his low, muttered assurances to Meredith; "they'll be back."

--

I know I should be mad at them. I should be threatening to whisk Addison away to some seductive, secluded island in the middle of nowhere without Mark or Meredith. I should be pacing and deciding how I should get back at her for this, how I should pay her back for making me fly across the country for her. I should be, but for some inexplicable reason, the only emotion I can conjure up is…humor. The laughter sinks in, yet again, once Addison and I have checked in at a nearby hotel and sunk into our separate beds in our separate rooms. The soft, glaringly white pillow currently propped underneath my chin and nose is absorbing most of the sound. The light, happy sound of me alone in a hotel room, thinking about my girlfriend crouching next to the rim of a car, fake parking ticket in one hand and a devilish grin splayed across her lips. I can imagine her scanning the street for witnesses before slipping the paper discreetly underneath the windshield wipers of the car, her eyes glinting underneath the light from the streetlamp, waiting for Mark's signal. The image is so…Meredith that I have to laugh, have to love the fact that some cop probably saw her with her shirt off.

I push away the thought that trails behind a cop seeing her. I push away thoughts of Mark, and how he probably got more of a view than he was anticipating. I push them away, instead focusing solely on the cold pillow and the soft bed, and of Meredith playing truth or dare with a pair of my oldest friends, already at home with the life I left behind.

**AN: This weekend's prom, so don't expect an update. Sorry! But I did find out what to make them arrested for. Like? Don't like? Let me know, por favor!**


	10. Free

The sun's blocked by clouds and buildings when we all leave the police headquarters the next morning. It's raining; short spurts of sprinkles every once and a while, making Addison and I regret not buying umbrella's at the hotel gift shop. Meredith latches onto my arm and Addison hooks her arm somewhat hesitantly through Mark's, and we begin to walk the full eleven blocks back to the hotel, because they insist that they need to be outside. One night in jail and they're already pleading for air.

They have a trial a couple of weeks from now, but until then they're free, free to stay in New York until then. Of course, there was still the hospital to consider. With me, the temporary chief, gone, along with the real chief and head of OB/GYN, it wasn't too far-fetched to assume that we each had inboxes full of calls waiting for us once we finally got around to checking our phones.

"I still can't believe you guys _actually_ got arrested for forging government documents," Addison says, addressing Mark but letting her voice carry back to Meredith and I while we walk a few feet behind them.

"What did you expect us to get arrested for?" Meredith asks.

"I don't know, I guess something a little less…playful. Like stealing a car or getting drunk in public."

I'm not ready to admit what _I_ thought they were arrested for, because that would force me to admit that I flew across the country to make sure they weren't having sex on some bench in Central Park.

"But those aren't nearly as fun," Meredith teases, "how many people can say they've been arrested for what we've been arrested for?"

Addison laughs, probably as relieved as I am that this trip turned out to be completely, utterly innocent; disregarding the arrest, of course. It's nice to know that it was _just _parking tickets, and that they were with Savvy and Weiss. I'd rather picture all three of them at just the right amount of drunk while Meredith happily joins in- despite the fact that she's sober- than just the two of them; Mark completely wasted, in a bar somewhere with absolutely no supervision.

It starts to shower and we all start to jog, laughing while Meredith attempts to cover up her recently- turned- see-through shirt.

"Damnit!" She cries, three blocks away from the hotel, "This could land me back in the slammer for indecent exposure."

I pull her closer, rubbing her cold, clammy arms and grinning at having her back. Addison and Mark keep throwing glances over their shoulders back at us, as if making sure we're keeping up. Mark weaves his fingers easily with Addison's, bringing her hand up to his lips in a chaste, out of character gesture that leaves me momentarily stunned.

"He _is_ capable of intimacy, you know," she mutters into my ear.

"I'm well aware," I growl back, glaring unnecessarily at the couple with their back's to us.

"He's your best friend," she says, and I ignore her, stubbornly keeping my eyes focused directly in front of me.

When we finally make it to the hotel, we punch the numbers on the elevators and wait for it to start, our hair clinging to our faces and shoulders. Meredith's teeth are chattering, and we hurry down the hall to our room, saying a quick, hurried goodbye to Mark and Addison.

"I've missed New York," Meredith says, in a low, sighing, voice while I'm sliding the key into the slot on the door and she's leaning against the wall, "So many things happen here."

"Yeah, I've actually realized how much I miss it, too."

She kisses me lightly, and I brush my hand just as lightly against her abdomen, feeling the slight bump that's beginning to form, her clammy skin. The light turns green and we stumble through the door, fumbling for buttons.

--

The next morning I groan, rolling over onto my back and squinting at the light streaming in through the blinds. My head falls to the side, my eyes shifting to rest on Meredith's neck naturally, like this was what I'd be doing for the rest of my life. She groans, too, shifting slightly under the sheets and snoring softly, throwing one arm over her eyes, her fingers entangling in her hair sleepily. I push myself off the bed, hearing the sharp crack of my knees resound against the walls. My feet pad noiselessly against the carpet and I switch on the light of the bathroom, waiting as the fluorescent lights over the sink take a moment, flickering to life with a hum. I stare into the smooth glass of the mirror, rubbing my eyes tiredly and turning the knob of the sink Yawning, I run my hands under the water and bring them up to my face, feeling cool water meet warm skin. The door creaks open revealing a ruffled, exhausted Meredith Grey, clutching the sheet to herself shyly and stifling a yawn.

"You know, I've seen all of that before," I say coyly, motioning breezily to her outfit.

She glares, tucking it elegantly around herself and stepping over to the mirror.

"Remind me never to have sex after spending a night in jail," she mumbles, stealing my toothpaste and toothbrush just as I'm reaching for it.

"I will do no such thing," I say, "You might be spending a lot of time in jail over the next few years."

She elbows me in the ribs, right above the waistband of my boxers, "Careful, or I may never have sex with you again," she says, in an all-too-serious voice.

"You wouldn't!"

"I might," she shrugs, mouth full of toothpaste. In a quick flick of my wrist, water's streaming from the shower head.

"What if I promised you that I'd do the bendy-thing in the shower?"

She smiles again, one of those smiles that leaves me wondering why I haven't proposed to her, yet.

"Then I'd have to reconsider, I guess," she murmurs against my lips, letting the sheet slip down, landing on the floor with a soft breath of air.

**AN: I finally updated! (It's only been like four days but that's a long time for me…) Review!!!!**


	11. Vacation

It's been nice, the past couple of days, going back to being Derek and Meredith again. I show her the old brownstone that Addison still refuses to sell and she brings me by her school, introducing me to the students that haven't already graduated. Her eyes glint when we start up the sidewalk towards the school, and she hooks her arm through mine as she points out her favorite spots on campus.

"That's where the history teacher asked me out…" she says, motioning to a stretch of grass and trees off to our right, overhanging branches dipping low.

"I said no," she says, laughing at my noticeably raised eyebrows. There's a beat of silence where I pretend to be mulling it over.

"Was he better-looking than I am?"

"Don't you think I would have said yes if he was?"

"Probably. But I was really only asking so that I could confirm that I am, without a doubt, the sexiest man alive."

"I wouldn't go _that_ far. I mean, Mr. Larson might not have been able to compete with you, but I'm sure there are men out there who can."

"Name one."

"Mark Sloane," She says easily, her voice light while my eyes narrow. She glances over, the smile tugging at the corner of her lips disappearing at my expression, "Okay, maybe not as funny out loud."

When my silence refuses to let up she tries a different approach, halting and jerking my arm back so that I'm forced to face her.

"Hey," she murmurs, once she's gotten my attention, staring at me, "You have nothing to worry about."

It was enough, right then, to hear her say that. It was enough to have her looking imploringly at me, her eyes searching mine. It was enough to have her hand grazing my arm.

It was enough.

--

Once we got back to the hotel, Mark, Addison, and I reached an executive decision to flip open our phones.

"_I cannot believe that all four of you would leave without telling anyone. I've had to step in for both the Chief and the temporary Chief and I don't appreciate being left to fend for myself while I'm still trying to deal with Christina and everything that happened. The least you could do was tell me."_

The guilt seeps in, lacing with shame and embarrassment. Burke deserved more from us, considering that we all knew how time-consuming being Chief could be.

"_Burke called me, Shepherd. Burke called me and I'm in __retirement__! I gave up the hospital, if you don't remember, and I chose to have a quiet, peaceful life with my wife, who disconnected the phone the second she realized it was the hospital. You better have a damn good reason, Shepherd, or I'll make sure Bailey gives you hell."_

I chuckle at the threat, deleting the message from Richard Webber.

"_Meredith's phone is off, Derek, so this one's for her—you got __arrested__? Sweet! What's it like? I mean, I've always wanted to get arrested but I didn't have the guts…The hospital's kind of crazy right now, it's like the nurses strike but with doctors which, as you can imagine, is about ten times worse. Don't have too much fun!" _

Stevens. She's become Meredith's stand-in best friend due to Christina's lack of enthusiasm after the miscarriage, probably becoming the microphone for Meredith to talk into about our relationship problems. I save the message, knowing Meredith will want to listen to it later.

"How many did you have?" Mark greets, leaving the door open behind him; phone still attached to his ear.

"Seventeen," I groan, "I haven't even begun to listen to them all."

"Beat you!" he sing-songs, "I had thirty-one."

I sigh, shutting my phone and looking up as Addison appears behind Mark, laying a manicured hand on his shoulder.

"This should be scored like golf," she says, "And in that case, I win. I only had eleven."

I bring a hand up over my face, rubbing my eyes tiredly. My stomach rumbles and Addison laughs.

"Hungry?"

"Meredith's bringing back food from the diner across the street," I explain, adding a low, muttering, "and she's taking a hell of a lot longer than I expected."

She laughs again, apparently having heard my under-the-breath complaint. Mark stretches, cracking his knuckles.

"What have we got planned for tonight?"

"Don't you have damage control to do with the hospital?"

"Nah," he says breezily, waving away my words, "That's for people who have lower salaries than I do."

"How the _hell_ did you become Chief?" I ask jokingly.

"No idea," he jokes back, resting his elbows on his knees and looking lovingly up at Addison, "I don't question a good thing."

He pulls Addison closer, so that she's balanced on one of his knees. I can't look away, mostly because I'm so fascinated with this new, devoted side of Mark. He's different with Addison, and I guess I never really looked close enough to notice it.

I guess I never really cared enough to notice it.

"Are we nauseating you yet?" Addison asks, smiling again at the expression on my face.

"A little," I say, secretly happy for them. If Mark has Addison, he doesn't need Meredith. An uneasy silence falls as we struggle for small-talk, and I wonder how our relationships have become so…empty. I think of Meredith, blonde-haired blue-eyed Meredith who, a year ago, had cancer, and who, three days ago, was arrested. I wish she would hurry up, so that I wouldn't have to sit here any longer, uncomfortable and starving.

When she finally does come in five minutes later, she's breathing heavily and holding two grease-stained paper bags triumphantly in both hands. I smile at her, grateful for the interruption.

"So," She says, noticing the awkward way we're sitting, Addison on Mark's lap and me sitting across from them, staring, "who's up for suspicious-looking diner food?

**AN: I think this is almost over. I don't think I can torture Meredith and Derek for much longer without breaking them up, so, yeah. Last chapter coming up…Review!!**


	12. Home

We're back. We're back in Seattle, and she finally looks happy again. Not the over-the-top- fake-happy she's so fond of, but the genuine, secret happy that I'd begun to worry would never make an appearance again. Her lips are upturned at the corners, fighting back a quickly-spreading grin, her fingers lacing easily with mine. Her good mood lasts all through the airport, despite the long flight and bad food. My eyes dart every once and awhile to her profile, just to make sure that she's still battling back a smile.

After we get out of the airport and into Seattle I stop expecting it to end, instead settling back into casual appreciation. It's only in the car when it begins to fade, when her smile slips off into the corners of her mouth, and she starts to bite her fingernails in irritation.

I didn't notice right away, instead preferring to believe that everything was still okay.

"Derek?" she mumbles, low so that Addison and Mark can't hear from the back seat of my car.

"Yeah?"

"What if-"

Her words hang in the air while she bites her lip, staring into the side mirror at the dust-covered truck tailgating us. I switch lanes easily, flicking my gaze from mirror to mirror before signaling and letting the truck pass before focusing my attention on her.

"What's wrong?"

Something about the way she's avoiding my eyes and the way her hands are clasped tightly between her legs lets me know that the amazingly genuine secret-happy is gone.

"Mer…"

"What if…what if I'm not a good mother? I mean, this whole thing is crazy, right? I can't be a mother! I don't even know what a good mother _is_ let alone how to be one! Seriously, why didn't we use a condom? Derek! We used to be a freaking condom ad! What the hell happened to that?"

She had started off under her breath, in a voice so unsure that I had to incline my head towards hers, but she keeps getting louder, voice gaining both volume and intensity. Addison throws a concerned glance at me through the rear-view mirror and Mark jerks awake, groaning as he snaps his neck free of pain.

"Jesus," he says, rubbing his eyes tiredly and looking to Addison for explanation, "are we there yet? Are we back?"

"No," she answered shortly, giving him a glare before turning to Meredith, her features melting into concern, "Meredith, are you okay?"

"Y-yeah. Just nerves. I'm fine-really. Completely, undoubtedly, one hundred percent emotionally stable," her voice shakes lightly, and her knuckles are turning white from her rigid grip.

"Mer, do you want me to pull over?"

"No! I mean, I'm fine. It's just-we're back…in Seattle. Wow. It's weird, you know? Coming from New York to Seattle again."

I crease my eyebrows, throwing her as many confused glances that I can without running us off of the road.

"Mer, seriously, do you want me to-"

"I'm fine. Seriously," she says, nodding her head to assure us, "I'm fine."

"Whatever you say," Mark grumbles, curling back into the awkward sleeping position he'd been in before. Addison continues to stare at Meredith, though, like at any second she'll have a nervous breakdown. Out of the corner of my eye I can see a pale, manicured hand rest on her shoulder.

I can feel the heat of embarrassment rise off of Meredith, tingeing her cheeks red. Still, to her credit, she smiles weakly at Addison and gulps back a string of defensive words.

"We're almost there," I say unnecessarily as I see the sign for a familiar exit, "Fifteen minutes and we're home."

Addison withdraws her hand, slumping gratefully into the seat.

"Thank god. I feel like we've been gone forever."

"Yeah. I wonder if the hospital's burned down by now."

"Probably."

I undoubtedly sound like a broken record by now but I have to ask.

"Mer, are you _sure_ you're okay?"

She turns back to me, grin fully in place, happy again.

"We're having a baby," she says, grinning wider, "Derek, we're having a baby!"

I raise my eyebrows in the rearview mirror to Addison, who just shrugs back, smiling to herself.

"I'm aware of that," I say, laughing, "as you should be, considering you're five months along and beginning to look-"

"Don't. Say. Fat," she warned, accenting each word and pursing her lips primly, "I have hormones that you probably don't want to get acquainted with right now, bearing in mind how you're just returning to Seattle Grace after bailing me out of a New York jail."

"Point taken."

Pause.

"Does this mean we're out of freak-out mood?"

She smiles again, softer than before, and I'm surprised to see tears well in the corners of her eyes. She giggles shakily at herself, wiping them away roughly with her thumbs and sniffling loudly.

"I will _never_ be out of freak-out mood," she says stubbornly, "and you, Derek Shepherd, are just going to have to live with that."

I pull onto the street in front of Addison and Mark's townhouse, saying a hurried goodbye to them before turning back to Meredith. I smile, "I think I can live with that."

She grumbles playfully, crossing her arms in front of her chest, smile still set firmly in place, "Good."

We're silent on the way to Meredith's house, both thinking about different things. I turn the keys in the ignition, and the hum from the car dies out. I unhook my seatbelt at the same time as Meredith, but as she reaches for her door handle I lay a hand on her knee, affectively getting her attention.

"Wait."

I shift so that I'm facing her, one knee resting up on the seat.

"I don't know how to say this so…I'm just going to."

Her curiosity peaks, and she raises her eyebrows in a silent question.

"Will you marry me?"

There's one of those awkward, lilting pauses that gets my hands sweating and my brain working at lightning speed to try to fix whatever I've done wrong. But, eventually, after a long, grueling, torturous five minutes, she answers.

"Okay," she says, like I've just asked if she wanted to go on a date, shrugging. I let out a sigh of relief, nodding.

"Okay then," I say back in the same tone, and we both reach for our respective car doors, smiling our own quiet, thoughtful, genuine smiles.

**AN: the end!!! Did you like? Not like? Let me know. It's so weird for this to be over!!! Omg I can't believe it. Lol. **

**P.S. I might to an epilogue…yeah, I think I will. Just because it'll be fun. **


	13. Epilouge

Its four years, a wedding, two kids and a dog later and we're still living in Seattle. Izzie and George both moved to L.A. where they both own a private practice which left Meredith and I to her mother's house; the kids each having their own room. George is, ironically, in George O'Malley's old room and Taylor's in Izzie's. We expanded the kitchen and converted Meredith's old bedroom into a master with a bathroom attached, two examples of the countless changes that have occurred over the last few years.

"The kids eat healthy, why can't you?"

"George is two and Taylor's four. They don't have a choice. When they're my age, then they can have cold pizza for breakfast."

"You're not setting a good example."

"George? Do you want some of Mommy's pizza?"

He shakes his head emphatically from his booster seat.

"See? He doesn't want any."

"I want some!"

I raise my eyebrows over my pancakes, watching while she backpedals.

"Don't you want pancakes, Taylor?" she offers hopefully.

"Why can't I have pizza?"

I stifle a laugh, hiding behind my orange juice. She glares.

"You can. Here," she rips off some of the crust and places in a satisfied four-year-old hand. She gets up, sauntering over to the cabinet and humming softly. It's amazing that she can look this good after two kids, and it's amazing that she turned into a morning person somewhere along the way. I guess we both had to, with screaming kids waking us up in the middle of the night for four years.

She pulls out two plastic cups and licks her fingers before pouring them each half-full of milk.

I take one, letting our fingers brush lightly before we each set them down in front of Taylor and George. She smiles, leaning over her chair to pick an olive off of her breakfast.

"If the kids and I are going to order pizza in the future, I should remember to get cheese instead of everything. You always eat most of it, anyway."

"I'm surprised you haven't thought of that before now," she quips, "you're a brain surgeon, right?"

"I hope so. Otherwise I'd have a few law suits to deal with."

This is one of our good days, when the kids are relatively tame and Meredith and I are, for one, actually speaking, and two, actually speaking nicely. Most days we're arguing silently over the kids' heads', speaking through our infamous looks. Most days, she can't remember why she married me, until I remind her later that night, after the kids have gone to bed. But today, today is one of those days. One of those days that makes everything worth it.

"What time does your shift start?"

"Does it matter? With Mark as chief, we barely have to show up at all."

Her lips stretch again into a grin, "True. It's kind of sad, really. Addison, you and I getting all the perks."

"I don't feel so bad. He slept with my wife, I can show up late. Fair trade."

"Which wife?" she asks playfully.

My grin falls.

"You slept with Mark?"

She nods, still smiling.

"In jail."

I let out a sigh of relief, bringing my dishes over to the sink and running them under the faucet while she laughs.

"You're so gullible."

"Not funny," I mutter, half-playful half-serious. She picks up on the serious and stands up, too, crossing the kitchen and wrapping her arms around my waist. 

"Not funny," she agrees and we have a moment before Taylor starts begging for attention and George starts begging to get down, "are you ready to go?"

I set my plate on the rack next to the sink, drying my hands on the towel folded over the stove handle and turning to lift George out of his high chair.

"Ready. You?"

She holds up her hand in answer, which is firmly encasing Taylor's. I nod, and she follows me out as I lead the way to our car with George draped over one shoulder, leaving dirty plastic cups and legos behind that we can clean up later, after we get home from our shifts at the hospital, when the kids are asleep and we're wishing we could enjoy a luxury like sleep.

This, our chaotic, insomnia-driven life is our happily ever after, and I don't think either of us are willing to let it go.


End file.
